


you don't need a king to be a queen

by skyeofskynet



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Female Friendship, Marriage of Convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyeofskynet/pseuds/skyeofskynet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither she nor Alistair know how to rule a kingdom, that's something queen Cousland realizes pretty fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you don't need a king to be a queen

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by a [kink meme prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10371.html?thread=43904131#t43904131) about Queen Cousland and Anora becoming friends.

She should have let Anora rule. She never wanted the crown in the first place. She never wanted the king either − that's something she and Anora have in common. 

She goes to talk to Anora from time to time, one miserable queen to another. Anora is not a prisoner but she's not free either; Eamon's too scared of her reaching for power again. Maybe he's right. 

"Just between you and me, I would be glad if you decided to do it," she tells her. Anora smiles, sadly. She's thinner now, a little less fierce, and Cousland makes a mental note to make her a personal advisor of the crown as soon as Eamon goes back to Redcliffe, because Anora used to have fire in her, that fire is still burning, waiting, and that's something Ferelden needs. 

"I need somebody who knows how to do it. That isn't me". 

That isn't Alistair either. Alistair is clumsy, both in bed and as a ruler, and both will probably change with time, but she was never a patient woman, she always wanted an adventure, my silly, silly Pup, be careful what you wish for. 

"What we want and what we get are two different things", says Anora and Cousland remembers times when they were both girls, Anora both older and already engaged to Cailan but still mad about it. But Anora has learned a lesson about her duties well, and Cousland was never good at listening to what her parents had to say, until they asked her to run. 

"Having a lover helps. At least it worked for my husband."

So she does. She lets Zevran take it all, take off her crown, her gown, undo her hair and undo her. He knows exactly what to do with his hands, his lips, his body. He knows how to listen, too. But while it worked on the way here, during the cold nights in their camp, it's not working anymore. Her rooms aren't their shared tent. Zevran sees is but he takes what he's given.

Then she goes to Alistair's bedrooms, sometimes still smelling like leather and wine. 

"No matter what we do for the kingdom, it's our ability to have a child that defines us in the eyes of your subjects."

Anora is bitter and Cousland thinks she will understand that bitterness soon, because it's almost impossible for two Grey Wardens to conceive a child, but somehow nobody will blame the king. She knows how Eamon looks at her. 

"Try to have a child with the elf."

"He's Antivian. Everybody will see Antivian blood in the child."

"Then find another man willing to fuck the queen."

"I don't want to."

"Ah."

The thing is, she doesn't want another lover, she won't trust another lover, she already has two, a husband she doesn't love and a lover she thinks she does. 

"Harder", she demands, later. She used to ask, Cousland used to ask, but queen Theirin has to demand. Zervan still answers the same, with the thrust of his hips, with his lips, with soft words she doesn't understand, until one day he leaves for Antivia, the crows after him, something even her crown can't protect him from.

"But I will be back, my love," he promises, and she kisses him for luck, gives him her mabari for luck, "To remember the smell of a wet dog," and he chuckles. 

"You love him." Alistair looks lost, like a mabari pup with his paws still too big for his body. For a moment she wants to pet him, to scratch his head, to even love him the way you love your favorite pet.

The bedroom floor is cold, still she takes her time to dress back in her gown, her naked body shivering. 

"For a while I thought you may love me, but... Why did you marry me?"

"I did what I was taught to do." A lesson learned too late. Her bed is cold that night. 

"Eamon won't leave", says Anora. "Not until you're with child."

"He won't. But I am. You are."

"What do you mean?"

"Amaranthine. I was called to fulfill my duties as Warden Commander."

"And what about the duties you have here?" She watches as Anora's lips change into a thin line, and she looks noble, she looks high born, even without a drop of royal blood in her veins. Her blood is more pure than Cousland's now anyway, no taint singing, waiting, restless. 

"Those are yours," she answers, and the answer is honest. "Ferelden needs a strong queen. That's not me."

Anora takes a sip of her tea, then nods. 

"And what about the king?"

"He will name you his advisor this afternoon."

"That won't be enough to Eamon, you know."

"Like he could stop you."

And Anora nods, smiling, fire already burning in her veins. 

"True."


End file.
